


If Forever Could Give You Everything

by Oaklin



Series: Forever Everything [68]
Category: Professional Wrestling, World Wrestling Entertainment
Genre: (because he is kind of a little shit), (like at all), (which makes no sense), Foreshadowing, Introspective Character Wank, Kayfabe Compliant, M/M, Metaphors, Purple Prose, Swearing, The Past Echoing The Future, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, obligatory Austin Aries warning, obligatory Kevin Steen warning, oblivious-ness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-07
Updated: 2017-10-07
Packaged: 2019-01-05 04:44:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,528
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12183135
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Oaklin/pseuds/Oaklin
Summary: Kevin is Fine. He has it allFigured Out,and he absolutely knowsExactly What He Is Doingat all times.Austin doesn't knowshit.





	If Forever Could Give You Everything

**Author's Note:**

> Hello hello!
> 
> Man, what a fucking week for ship drama, eh? It is just all the hell over the place right now, in multiple different forms across several wrestling promotions. Is it like, wrestling mating season, and nobody told me, or something? Not that I'm bitching, mind you. I am so on board with this. The only problem is that I only have so much time, and I feel like there is a million things I need to get written down at any given moment.
> 
> Ah well, such is life. Anyway, enough with my prattling, on with the angst!

“Huh. I didn’t know you had a key to their place,” Austin remarks as Kevin throws the door open and they filter inside, both of their movement stiff and slow.

Kevin lets the door shut behind him then staggers over to the kitchen, throwing himself down on the newly installed makeshift breakfast bar, the cushy material of the stool a welcome respite for his sore thigh muscles.

“I swiped it a few weeks ago,” He says, though he isn’t sure why he even bothers to answer the question.

Or why he answered said question with a-

_-lie-_

“I am going to go raid their fridge. You want a beer?” Austin asks, his voice rough and raspy, mostly devoid of it’s usual irreverent chipper lilt.

Kevin waves him off, leaning forward in his chair as Austin pries himself up into a standing position. “Nah. I don’t really drink anymore. Not my thing.”

Austin makes a vague sound of sympathy, hauling himself over to the fridge and digging a beer out. “Yeah, you seem like the kind of guy who will lose what few marbles you have left in that skull of yours when you drink.”

Kevin groans is aggravation, irritated beyond reason that this miniscule, hopeless little prick can manage to read him so thoroughly in the few months that they have known each other.

“Fuck you. I am in complete control of myself at all times.”

Austin doesn’t reply verbally, just snorts in disbelief. Kevin returns the nonverbal reply, snapping a middle finger up without pulling his torso up from the breakfast bar. Austin just laughs tiredly, the sound worn and rough, even to Kevin’s ears.

“Temperamental little shit, aren’t you? The fuck does Raggedy Anne put up with you?”

Kevin taps the pad of his index finger across the surface of the breakfast bar, inspecting the grain of the wood intently. The little window in the kitchen, above the sink is closed, it’s curtain pulled over the pane, preventing the soft sunlight from filtering into the room like it usually does.

_-miss the light-_

(no you don’t)

(I don’t)

(whatever)

_-like a beacon of **resplendent absolution** -_

(no it is _not_ )

**(shut up)**

_-the **very best** of **you** shines through **that window** -_

_-the **very worst** of **him** makes the **shadows** seem like **warm summer days** -_

(that **_doesn’t-_** )

**_-miss the light-_ **

(... ** _he_ ** will be here in like twenty minutes.)

_(calm the fuck down)_

**(fuck)**

Kevin pulls in a breath that physically hurts, the air passing through his lungs painfully frigid, like the room temperature has dropped fifty degrees since he started this internal monologue. Shaking his head, he glares briefly down at the smooth counter top beneath his fingers, dragging his finger across it harshly and watching the paint give way and peel with more satisfaction than is perhaps healthy.

Given the situation and all.

Not that there is a situation.

Or anything.

(shit)

“I don’t know why the fuck he hangs out with me. Maybe it’s my sparkling personality?” Kevin bites out at last, the smile curling at his lips all teeth and growling irritability.

Austin closes the fridge, a beer in one hand. He snaps the lid off, but doesn’t walk over and sit back down at the breakfast bar. Instead, he leans up against the fridge, contemplating Kevin for a heartbeat. Kevin shoots him a glare, and Austin pauses his staring to take a drink, then immediately goes back to staring.

“The fuck are you looking at?” Kevin snarls, aggravated at being observed like he is some sort of particularly interesting zoo exhibit.

(not that there is anything wrong with zoos, mind you)

Kevin is not a delightful creature of majesty and splendor, so he is confused and uneasy with Austin eyeing him like he is.

_-nervous?-_

**(no)**

_(...maybe)_

_-when is **he** coming back?-_

_-miss **his** luminescence-_

(let it **_go_ ** for fucks sake)

Kevin stamps down the ache in his chest as Austin finally opens his mouth to explain himself.

Presumably.

“Maybe it is, actually,” Austin says thoughtfully, contemplating Kevin like he is the most fascinating mystery in the universe.

(he didn’t even look at me that intensely when we were kicking the shit out of each other earlier)

(the fuck)

“What?” is all Kevin can muster, because he is honestly too confused to string together a coherent sentence, much less a snaky retort full of biting insults.

“Maybe The Amazing Ginger Wunderkid does indeed hang out with you because of your sparkling personality. Have you ever seriously considered that?” Austin explains, his tone implying that it is the most obvious thing in the world, and that he is weary of explaining the colors of the sky to a toddler.

Kevin’s hackles rise at being talked down to, but even then, it feels muted. Like the anger is coming from somewhere so deep in his subconscious that when it finally reaches the surface, it is weak, impotent. He sighs and leans back in the rickety stool that he is still half sure is going to dump him on his ass in the middle of the kitchen.

“Aries, do you even remember who we are talking about? It’s a miracle my ‘sparkling personality’ hasn’t sent him running for the fucking hills already.”

And.

To be fair.

(he has no idea why he is even entertaining this train of thought.)

_-irrelevant-_

(this conversation?)

_-this whole fucking day-_

_-just-_

**_-want-_ **

(no)

_(...latter)_

( _ **he’ll** _ be here **later** )

Kevin chest aches, the pull of something _warm_ and **soft** and **_home_** -

(fuck)

-echoing through him. He reaches out, both physically and metaphorically, planting a hand on the counter and straining to keep his flaky attention on the scrawny, belligerent asshole in front of him.

(and not on a certain other scrawny, belligerent asshole)

(whom he would much rather Be With at the _moment_ )

(if he is Honest)

(because **fuck** )

**_-need-_ **

Austin tuts, like he is Kevin’s ever patient babysitter or something. Before Kevin can even really get a good, frothy anger going about the condescension though, Austin opens his stupid goddamn mouth.

“You say that, but I don’t think either of us believe it. I don’t think anyone believes that. The question is, why would you even say something that is so obviously untrue? Something that is so clearly wrong, on the most basic of levels. Why would someone like you, a relatively intelligent person, if a little blind about certain things, say something that anyone within half a mile blast radius of that crooked little smile of his can see is a straight up lie?”

Kevin scrunches his face up, all the anger sputtering out of him as he deflates, that particular spiel not at all what he had been expecting. His brain too clogged with anticipatory elation and his anger left with nothing to fuel it, Kevin shrugs, despondently glaring at the table, reduced to petulance in his current state.

“Man, if I wanted to be psycho analyzed, I would have taken a fucking car ride with Beef. Save your philosophical bullshit for someone who cares, alright Doctor Phil?”

Austin doesn’t laugh, or get mad, He just leans there against the fridge, looking at Kevin. Looking _through_ him. Like he can see all the little parts of Kevin that shine with the Brightest Of Lights.

_-the **best parts** -_

_-the only **good parts** -_

_(fuck)_

**(stop)**

**_(wait)_ **

“You know, you are a horrible liar,” Austin observes, gesturing at Kevin with his beer bottle, only the slightest wry curl to his lips as he speaks, his words grating against Kevin’s self control, like that cheese grater Homicide had pulled out of his pants at the show earlier.

“I am an excellent liar,” Kevin corrects, somewhat indignantly.

Austin snorts loudly at that, prompting Kevin to continue.

“You are just reading too much into things. Things that are both none of your business, and even if they were your business, wouldn't matter in the long run.”

“Everything matters in the long run, Steen,” Austin says, with an aggravating air of smug faux wisdom that makes Kevin irrationally annoyed.

“The fuck would you know about **_everything?”_** Kevin snarls before he can stop himself, the words pouring out of him unbidden, like they were torn from him by the shear absurdity of the current situation.

“A lot more than you, apparently,” Austin says with a smirk, the tone of his voice laced with condescension, like he knows something that Kevin doesn't.

Kevin grinds his teeth, trying to filter the anger out of his voice as he speaks, with minimal success. “I know plenty about- fuck,” it occurs to him how stupid this conversation is. Also, he can feel a distant bright spot, just on the edge of his consciousness. “Fuck this and fuck you. This whole thing is stupid as shit. I don’t need you to lecture me about my life choices.”

“Poor life choices,” Austin adds, smiling cheerfully at the glare Kevin casts his way for the snark.

“Only sometimes,” Kevin says, as bouncing footsteps echo down the hallway outside of the apartment, keys jingling in the lock as two exited voices babble incoherently at each other.

“Some of my life choices are just about **_everything.”_**


End file.
